Game of Thrones Overlord Conquest.

Chapter 151 Entering Iban
In the polar sea that is often beaten by storms, there is an island country that is famous far and wide.

It is covered with mountains and forests, rich in gold, iron and tin, while the forests on the island can find wood, amber and hundreds of kinds of furs. This is Iban.

The Iban people are short, fat, loud, quick-moving, arrogant and violent. They are called "whalers" because these people often drive bloated whaling ships and venture into the waters of other countries to hunt.

Bern Sigwald is just such a typical Iban, his height is only over five feet, and he is considered a "tall" in the whole Iban.

The unusually broad chest muscles and shoulders, plus the slender hair covering the whole body, and the stubby lower limbs make him look like a bear walking upright.

Of course, his identity is not simple. Sigwald is an ancient family that has ruled and managed the river bay area west of Iban Island for generations. Bourne himself is also a member of the Thousands. Elected by this group, it has served as the governing body of Ibben since the God-King was overthrown after the Doom of Valyria.

The river bend area of ​​the Sigwald family is sparsely populated, and some Iban settlements are scattered here and there. Most of them stand alone on the top of the south-facing slope. On the top of Shiling, there are cultivated land and pastures below, which gradually drop to sea level layer by layer.

Bourne's daily government affairs are very busy, either to command the leaders to log in the forest, or to fish in the turbulent and icy river, and finally, to climb the cliffs and steep slopes to the top of the mountain, overlooking the west of the island. A vast and invisible ocean.

After a busy day, he dragged his exhausted body back home, wrapped up a blanket and lay down, just when he was drowsy and about to fall asleep, he suddenly thought of something and sat up suddenly .

"Master Bourne, what's the matter?" The attendant who was serving at the side hurriedly walked to his side and asked in a low voice, "Did you feel unwell when you were sleeping?"

"Forest, during the day." Bourne replied: "The merchants and sailors we encountered are not quite right."

"Ah!" The entourage showed doubts, gestured with their hands, and said, "Is there something wrong with their identities?"

Bourne's high and sloping brows were frowning, almost roaring, and shouted:

"They say they often go to Iban Port for trade, but why don't they know anything about the laws and traditions here."

As he said that, he got up from the bed with hands and feet, took down the ax hanging on the wall and the brown shield wrapped in animal skin, and walked out of the house angrily.

Although the Iban are short and have many features of ancient peoples, they have the same level of intelligence as other races, and they are very vigilant and xenophobic.

The Iban living in forests and high mountains are even more distrustful of strangers and foreigners. People from other islands and races will be subject to strict legal restrictions in the Iban port, and it is absolutely forbidden to enter the gathering place of the Iban.

The reason for this situation, apart from the protection of rich resources and some historical contradictions, is that the most important thing is that the Iban and other races have difficulty in breeding offspring. Men of other races impregnate Iban women, and the result will inevitably be teratogenic Or stillborn, likewise, Iban males impregnating females from other regions, like mules.

As Bourne rushed out of the room, soon, the entire River Bend area was boiling. The men tried to drive away the drowsiness, holding axes and shields, and under the light of the torch made of whale oil, their deep-set small eyes widened. Looking around.

However, they failed to notice that behind the cliffs and rocks a few hundred feet away from them, short and thin black figures emerged from the sea and nimbly slipped onto the shore. After a subtle rumbling sound, the ripples on the water gradually calmed down. , those figures like grass and trees sneaked into the jungle quietly.

That night, the Iban people didn't even find a ghost. However, Bourne still insisted on his speculation. His prestige in the River Bend area was very high. After that, all the citizens became cautious, but No suspicious traces were found, and seven days passed without incident.
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One day at dawn, the sky was still blue-gray, and it was connected to the ocean in the distance. The only wind was blowing from the north. of light.

There are many birds inhabiting the cliffs and vine-covered stone walls, and they are all circling the top of the mountain at this time, as if there is a cloud of black clouds hanging in the sky all the time.

Bourne looked at the scene in front of him uneasily, his brows were frowned, he turned his head to the Iban warrior who was sleepy, and said:

"You go back and lie down first, change a group of people to guard with me, and hold on for a while, we must catch those rotten guys who are trying to do something wrong, otherwise we may attract deadly enemies."

The soldiers who had already been exhausted did not have any extra thoughts. When they were about to pack their luggage and go down the mountain, a follower suddenly found a long boat paddling on the sea, heading for Iban Island at high speed.

"My lord, what is that?" he called, pointing to the western sea level, "is that our whaler?"

Bourne pushed away his followers vigorously, waiting for the distant scene without blinking his eyes. The sky was getting brighter and brighter, and the sun behind him was shining strangely.

Suddenly, he started to yell, and countless black silhouettes appeared on the sea surface. They raised their white sails, like the sharp teeth of a shark, heading here mightily.

"Enemy attack, it's enemy attack!" Bourne's hoarse roar woke everyone up.

"This is too crazy!" The soldiers shouted in panic: "Blow the horn quickly!"

At the same moment, they heard the sound of a bowstring popping open, and dozens of arrows shot at them unexpectedly. One arrow shot through the trumpeter's throat. He fell face to face and dropped the horn in his hand.

Another arrow hit Bourne in the chest, shaking him. Fortunately, the chain mail under his fur cloak blocked the attack, and the rest of the arrows were nailed hard on the warriors' bodies and shields. superior.

It was only then that Bourne saw that there were many thin black figures running around the edge of the southern cliff, and they seemed to be preparing to draw their bows again.

"Wooden man!" He shouted in surprise, "Raise your shield!"

The soldiers all bent down, desperately raised their round shields, and guarded Bourne in the center. Then, many arrows flew over. Although most of them were blocked by the shields, there were still soldiers screaming. While screaming, he was hit by an arrow and fell to the ground.

One of the arrows was firmly nailed to the ground, but it was very accurate, because it was only an inch away from Bourne's hand to pick up the horn.

At this moment, he understood that these wooden men must have obvious targets, and the only possibility is to prevent him from blowing the horn, because the enemy and the enemy on the longboat are all accomplices.

Bourne gritted his teeth, temporarily gave up picking up the horn, looked out through the gap between the shields, and immediately saw the wooden man who was staring at the target with a bow, bathed in the sun, exuding a legend-like The spirit of a sharpshooter.

"Go forward and push them off the cliff." Without hesitation, he quickly gave orders to the soldiers.

But at the same time, earth-shattering cheers sounded from the coast. Looking sideways, he saw dozens of long boats had arrived and were rushing towards the beach.

The pitch-black hull, like a long night, absorbs all the light and brings all the darkness and coldness.

He felt that his eyes were dark, and a chill flowed through his heart, making his heart almost stop beating.

This terrifying chill reminded him of the old wounds on his body, like that time when the whaling ship capsized and mercilessly soaked his whole body in the icy water.

　The new volume opens, destroying a country first, proclaiming the world, dancing the dragon, and conquering Essos.

　　According to Martin, the island of Iban is the size of Iceland, and if one imagines Westeros as Great Britain and the Eastern Continent as continental Europe, then Iban is like Finland, but without Scandinavia and the Baltic Sea and beyond. The north is also the ocean.

　　Also, the Ibans are short and reproductively isolated, blah, blah, blah.

　　
　
(End of this chapter)